The Further Story of Grograman
by Amaris Moon Bux
Summary: A continuation of one of the many stories left uncompleted in Michael Ende’s The Neverending Story, it follows the further tale of Grograman, the fire lion, as someone comes in Bastian’s name to fulfil a promise he made many years earlier.


THE FURTHER STORY OF GROGRAMAN 

Part I: A Desert Between Them

  
  


Some would could call Bisamah Bianca Bux a trouble-maker. "I don't take orders from anyone!" she would scream when she was told to do some nasty chore such as taking out the garbage or sweeping the porch. And in the end, she usually won.

Bisamah's parents had just about given up on their only daughter. They'd already tried simply talking with her, but it was as if there was an impenetrable desert between themselves and Bisamah. And because they could not cross this desert, they'd been forced to take indirect routs to get through to their daughter. 

Bisamah's parents first had tried talking to her teachers at school. Now Bisamah was a very bright student, don't be mistaken, and would have always gotten straight A's if she hadn't disagreed with her teachers so often. You see, Bisamah was the sort of person who held nothing back. If she was dissatisfied with the way a teacher was teaching, she would raise her hand and say so. This landed her in the principal's office more than enough times for her grades to be affected. And so when she was left back after the seventh grade, her parents decided that something had to be done. Something new.

There came a loud crash from across the small bedroom. "I'm not going!" shouted Bisamah as she threw her suitcase at a chest of draws in the corner of the bedroom. "You can't make me go there, Mom! I'll . . . I'll lock myself in the closet!" The knob on Bisamah's closet door clicked shut. 

"Sweety," said Bisamah's mother in a soft yet stern voice, "you're going and that's final. Your grandfather is a wonderful man--"

"Then why have I never met him? Why is he never at weddings or family reunions? Huh?" shouted back Bisamah.

"Well . . ." Bisamah's mother thought, "He likes to keep to himself a lot. He's been like that ever since Gramma died 15 years ago. But believe me dear, he has a kind heart and your father and I believe that your staying with him for a while is-"

"Is what? Going to turn me into a descent human being?!" snapped Bisamah. Her mother froze outside the closet door. She didn't know how to respond to her daughter's harsh remark.

"Not that, Bisamah! No! But we think that he'll make you feel better about yourself. He has a way of . . . changing people. You'll see." Not a sound came from inside the closet for several minutes, until the knob finally twisted and clicked open once again.

"Mom," said Bisamah with a sparkle in her green eyes, "if I go . . . will you promise to get me that new stereo? You know, the really big one with all the speakers . . ."

"Blackmail." thought Bisamah's mother. "Yes . . . well . . . I know the one you mean, but isn't the one you have just as nice?" asked Bisamah's mother in the nicest voice she could muster.

"Nice? Hah!" cawed Bisamah. "Either you buy it or I'm staying right here."

Bisamah's mother thought for a moment. She had already spent hundreds of dollars on child psychology seminars and books. If this plan finally succeeded, then that new stereo system would be priceless. "It's a deal." she said. Bisamah nodded approvingly and walked towards her chest of drawers.

"What are you doing, Bisamah?" asked her mother with knitted brows.

"Packing." said Bisamah as she picked up her suit case.

  
  


  
  


"Bastian Balthazar Bux." read Bisamah off a dented old mail box at the end of a long driveway. "Does everyone in our family have BBB for initials?"

"No . . . just you and Grampa." answered her father as he turned into the driveway.

"Well, we're here!" shouted Bisamah's mother, trying to cheer her daughter up.

"What a dump." said Bisamah. Indeed, the house had seen better days. The shutters hung at various angles, and the olive-green paint that clung to its outside was peeling, revealing a spectrum of hues the house had previously been. The surrounding woods encroached upon Bastian's lawn, and saplings and wild rose bushes grew every few feet in the uncut grass. "At least it'll be worth it all when I get my new stereo!" Bisamah said as she slammed the car door shut.

"What?!" muttered Bisamah's father, still sitting in the driver's seat.

"Shhh," whispered her mother, "Bisamah and I have a deal: if she stays with her grandfather for a month, then she gets a new stereo system. It'll be worth it the end, dear, I have full confidence that he will change her for the better. You'll see." 

Bisamah's father sighed and buried his face in his arms. "I can only hope at this point."

  
  


  
  


"Come in, come in. The door's unlocked. Just don't track any mud onto my floor." said a cold voice from inside the dark house. 

"Dad!" shouted Bisamah's father when she was inside.

"Not much better in here." mumbled Bisamah as she entered, taking care to track as much mud in as possible.

"Bisamah!" said her mother with cross eyes, "Be polite."

The door slammed. "Hello?" repeated Bisamah's father.

"Over here." said the crackly voice. But before anyone had the time to find its source, an ancient leather chair in the corner of the room, whose back had been facing the door since Bisamah and her parents' arrival, began to swivel around and face them. An old man whose face was as round as a pumpkin and whose cheeks bulged in chipmunk fashion was sitting in it, reading a dusty old book.

"Come in and sit down." said Bastian, pointing to a red coach next to his desk. His gaze never left the pages of the book though.

"Wouldn't you like to meet your granddaughter?" questioned Bisamah's father.

"Yes, yes, just give me a moment." He turned a page then placed a shiny red ribbon in the book and closed it, sending a geyser of dust streaming into the air in front of his face. "Now," he said in a jolly voice, "we may become acquainted!" 

Bisamah and her parents moved towards the couch. It clearly sagged in the middle, and so Bisamah chose to sit on the floor instead. A thick layer of dust coated the twisted old beams, but she didn't mind, for she was far from being obsessed with cleanliness. 

"So, young lady, I hear we are going to be spending some time together." said Bastian, fiddling with his fingers upon the cover of the book, which still lay upon his lap.

"Wow, I hadn't noticed." responded Bisamah in a bitter tone. She didn't even bother to look up at her grandfather when she spoke. Instead, she doodled in the dust with her finger. 

"Oh, I see you like to draw. Me too!" said Bastian. "Is that a lion?"

Bisamah looked down at her doodle. She had intended it to be a man-eating wolf, but sure enough, a lion had merged from the dust. And it wasn't just any common zoo lion, this specimen had an immense mane that trailed behind its body like flames! The dust in the house had a certain iridescent sparkle to it, and the lion's body shown like a rainbow in the dimly lit room.

"I like lions. I hope you do too!" chuckled Bastian.

"I hate lions!" screamed Bisamah, the dust flying from her hands as she clenched them in anger. She began to cough violently. "And . . . cough . . . I hate dust . . . cough . . . too!"

"Oh," said Bastian, "but this is not dust. They are seeds and they will blossom when the time is right. All things blossom you know, if you give them the chance."

"What a load of bologna! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" roared Bisamah. 

"Bisamah!" said her father in a stern tone, "Don't talk to your grandfather that way! He was only trying to make pleasant conversation with you."

"Yes, wouldn't you like to get to know your grandpa better, honey?" Bisamah's mother chimed in.

"I'll be spending a whole month with him! I can get to know him later!" she snapped back.

"Young lady!" shouted Bisamah's mother, rising to her feet, "If you don't adjust your attitude then . . . then you won't get that stereo!"

"Aaagh! Why won't you leave me alone?!" screamed Bisamah as she stormed out of the room. She disappeared down a dark passageway to the left of Bastian's desk. Bastian, who hadn't flinched once during any of Bisamah's harsh remarks, winked as she ran past.

"Don't worry," he said, "I will you see you in one month. Oh, and don't bother to call - the phone isn't hooked up anymore."

Bisamah's father stood up and joined his wife. Slowly, they backed towards the door. "Are you sure you want to do this, Dad?" he questioned.

"Oh, yes."

"Bisamah's things - they're in that suitca--"

"Bisamah is with me now. Nothing can go wrong. I will see you in a month. Goodbye." Bisamah's parents took one last look at Bastian, then slammed the front door behind them. 

Bastian didn't move though. Not until he heard the car engine start and the sound of the pebbles crunching beneath the tires fade into the distance did he pick up his book again. "Let me see you blossom." he whispered to himself as he slipped his finger in where the red ribbon had been carefully placed and opened up the dusty book.

  
  


Bisamah was in a state of awe as she walked through her grandfather's house. She now saw that it was not just dirty exactly, but had the same kind of elegance as ancient ruins do. "There is beauty in decay after all." she thought as she walked up a twisted staircase. The banister was coated with a thick layer of cobwebs and that same sparkly dust. "Seeds? Hah!" she remarked to herself, sending some of the dust flying off the railing with a quick snap of her wrist. At the top of the stairs, Bisamah came to a long hallway, the end of which she could hardly see. It reminded her of what one sees in a mirror reflected in a mirror. The young girl decided to explore it. 

The first door of the hallway proved to be locked. The second door lead to an empty room. The third turned out to be a bathroom. Bisamah poked her head in, but all she saw was a large, hairy spider living in the bowl of the toilet. She quickly slammed the door, for she truly hated spiders. All of the other doors in the hall looked similar, and probably contained rooms of as little interest as the first three she thought. But Bisamah continued to walk down the hallway anyway, as if some strange force was pulling her. 

At last, Bisamah came to the end of the hallway. "A dead-end?" she said under her breath. No. There was a doorknob set into the wall! She reached out her hand and twisted the knob. Seams Bisamah had not noticed before became visible in the cracked old wall and a door began to materialize. She entered and it instantly shut behind her, as if of its own accord.

  
  


It was far too dark for Bisamah to know where she was exactly, but the air felt strangely different than it had in the hallway, and so she knew that she was in someplace entirely new. Then she remembered she had been keeping a small matchbook in her pocket, should she have any use for it while she was staying with her grandfather. Bisamah struck a match and the room was instantly illuminated with reddish light. She could see that she was in an attic, and a very messy one at that! Countless layers of dust and soot coated the floor and walls, and spider webs, weighted down by hollow insect carcasses, hung from the ceiling like ancient tapestries. Bisamah already knew that her grandfather wasn't a very diligent cleaner, but he had obviously neglected this part of the house more than the rest.

"Ouch!" she yelped when the match grew small and burnt her fingertips. She instinctively tossed it away into a distant corner of the dusty attic. Light still filled the room though, and so she figured that the match was still lit. "I better find it, or I'll burn the whole place down!" Bisamah, who was not that evil, said to herself as she went about looking for the source of the strangely bright red light. 

Bisamah noticed several stuffed animals in the corner. "That's strange." she thought. She examined behind them, but there was no match to be seen. Then something glittery caught the corner of her eye. "Aha!" she proclaimed. The light seemed brightest at the far end of the attic where a pile of old books appeared illuminated. She walked towards them. "Chemistry text books?" she said, examining their mildewy covers. "Perhaps my grandfather was a teacher." added Bisamah. But even still, the books seemed out of place in one's attic. They would have seemed more in place in a school attic. But Bisamah just shrugged this off and lifted up the first three books, their pages moist with mold and rot. The fourth book in the pile proved different from the others though. For one, it was glowing. 

Bisamah stared at it, wide-eyed in horror. "Its on fire . . . yes, its glowing like an ember!" she tried to tell herself. But no, this was a different sort of glow then what fire produces. She threw the three chemistry textbooks back on top of the pile and raced to the other side of the attic where the strange glow was dimmer. As she ran, she heard a soft crunch under her foot. She reached down. It was her match, and it was burnt out. 

"Master, is that you?" Bisamah could clearly hear a deep voice say. 

"Gr . . . Grampa?" she managed to stutter back. 

"Not gramp-pa . . ." rumbled the voice, ". . . Grograman!"

  
  


Up until that point, Bisamah had kept her eyes shut, afraid to look at whoever - or whatever Grograman might be. When she opened them at last, she discovered that she was no longer in a dust filled attic, nor was she even in her grandfather's house.

"Where am I?!" screamed Bisamah, in panic.

"You are in Goab, master. Don't you remember?" roared Grograman, the Many-Colored Death.

Bisamah was scared stiff. "Go . . . Goab? she uttered in a timid voice.

"Master?! What has happened to your speech . . . and your memory! Oh, master!" cried the lion.

Bisamah turned to flee, when she suddenly felt a great weight upon her shoulders. She looked down only to see a thick chain about her neck. She traced it with her fingers until she came to a large, oval medallion at the end. It consisted of two snakes, a dark one and a light one, biting each other's tails.

"You act as if you have never seen the Gem before." said Grograman, with a concerned look upon his monstrous face.

"But I never have seen it before! Where did it come from? Where did all of this come from?"said Bisamah, feeling strangely brave all of a sudden.

"You created it all, Bastian! That's what you told me long ago." answered Grograman.

"Bastian . . . Bastian Balthazar Bux?!" shouted Bisamah as she walked closer to the lion.

"Of course! Isn't that you, master?"

"No . . . Bastian is my grandfather."

Grograman plopped himself down in the sand and roared with laughter "Then who are you?"

"I am Bisamah, Bisamah Bianca Bux." she said, with a hint of pride in her voice. Obviously her grandfather had been some sort of hero wherever she was.

"Bisamah . . ." Grograman practiced saying the name. "Master, it is very hot and I'm sure you are very thirsty. Please let me take back you to my tomb." Grograman leaned forward, as if he were bowing, and let Bisamah climb onto his back. "And by the way, master," continued Grograman, "never take off AURYN, the Gem, for it alone allows you to survive the fire of Goab."

Bisamah nodded, clutching AURYN in her hands, and then they were off. Grograman's fur shown a blinding array of colors as he leapt from one dune to another in the vast Desert of Goab, his mane trailing behind him like a tattered, rainbow-hued flag. 

But despite all the colors, Bisamah was in the dark. Where was she? Who was this Grograman? And the question that puzzled her the most, what was her grandfather's connection? She planned to ask this Grograman as soon as they arrived at his tomb. Tomb? Bisamah gulped and clutched the medallion, AURYN, around her neck so tightly, that it left small scale-shaped indents on her palms. 

  
  


  
  


Grograman was a very fast runner, and so the two arrived at his tomb in practically no time at all. "Here we are, Master." he said as he came to a halt before a large black rock face. "Would you like a drink?"

Bisamah's mouth was so parched that she could barely speak, but she was determined to get answers before relief. "No, Grograman. First, I would like to know where I am and why you know my grandfather."

"Why, that's easy to answer!" chuckled the lion, "This is Goab, the Desert of Colors as I already said. Of course its only here during the day. At night, Perilin the Night Forest grows out of the colored sands, which are actually seeds. And I know your grandfather because long ago, when he was your age, he came to Fantasia and created Goab and Perilin, as well as me. He had to leave me though . . . he needed a story and there are none here. I was sure he would return one day, which is why I was so happy when I thought you were him! But what am I saying, any company is wonderful! You are only the second living thing I have ever met!"

Bisamah was in shock. She could hardly believe what she had just heard. Normally she would have made a rude response and started laughing, but there was no doubt in her mind that this was the truth. "Grograman . . . " she puttered, "may I have that drink now, I . . ." But before she could finish her sentence, she passed out.

The concerned lion gently scooped up her limp body and carried her into the crypt. Inside, Grograman brought her to the fountain where Bastian had bathed many decades earlier. The mighty lion carefully placed the girl on its edge of reached for a cup of wild juice. He placed it to Bisamah's lips and gently poured it down her throat. She swallowed it and began to rouse s little. Bisamah's eyes opened just wide enough for her to make out the face of Grograman, his brow wrinkled and tense. Somehow, she knew she was in good paws though, and so allowed herself to drift off into a soothingly deep sleep. 

When Bisamah awoke who knows how much later, the feeling of the room was entirely different. It seemed colder and darker. She quickly rose to her feet and looked around. Grograman was nowhere to be seen. "Grograman!" she yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Grograman! Where are you?!" No reply. "The walls are very thick," she thought aloud, "the lion could easily be in the next room and not hear me!" And so she set out to explore the tomb, which looked more like an Arabian palace than the damp crypt she had originally expected.

"Grograman!" she snapped again, as she made her way towards what appeared to be a door leading to another room. "Grogra-" Bisamah stopped dead in her tracks. For there, in the center of the chamber, a huge stone lion rested upon a chunk of black rock. This was Grograman, she could feel it deep inside her. Surely, she thought, he had been turned to stone by some powerful and evil force. Bisamah felt sick to her stomach at the thought of not having anyone to help her find her way home again. She did not dare get any closer to the massive rock though, for she feared that whatever had cast the evil spell might still be still lurking nearby. Luckily, Bisamah could still recall where the exit was, and so the girl ran towards it. Bisamah rushed down the long passage leading to the outside, but tripped just as she was about to leap into the desert. She closed her eyes and expected the feeling of hot sand to rush up to her body, but instead, her fall was cushioned by a dense layer of tropical plants.

  
  


  
  


"Huh?" she muttered, dusting herself off. Bisamah put her hand to her forehead and took a good look around. This was defiantly not the desert she had been in earlier that day! Could it be that whatever cast the spell on Grograman had also transformed the desert? Then Bisamah remembered something Grograman had said: "Perilin the Night Forest grows out of the colored sands, which are actually seeds." Those had been his exact words. "Perilin." Bisamah repeated, "The Night Forest." This had to be it, for all the plants and trees were glowing with a soft light that stood out against the black night like stars in the sky. Surely if the sands of Goab were seeds, these are the sorts of plants they would spawn. Bisamah decided to look around.

The floor was thick with gnarled vines and short, stubby flowers that looked like vases of sweet nectar. She dipped her finger into one of the flowers and tasted the sweet liquid. It was like honey, only better. Walking proved to be a very difficult task in Perilin, and Bisamah found herself having to bend the delicate flowers and shrubs more often than she would have liked to. But to her surprise, they instantly returned to their normal shape, as if they had never been touched. This made travel much easier.

As Bisamah trekked deeper into the very heart of Perilin, she began to lose track of time. She couldn't decide whether she had just begun to explore, or if she had been there for days, wandering aimlessly about. Maybe there was no such distinction in Perilin. Then everything suddenly rushed back to her. "Grograman!" she screamed out of the blue. "I must help him, I . . ." The beauty of Perilin had made Bisamah lose her memory. "I've got to go back to him . . ." 

It was difficult for her to leave Perilin, but she knew she had to do the right thing. Bisamah took a deep breath and turned around. She paused before taking that difficult first step. And to her surprise, a small pink flower dissolved beneath her shoe. It turned to sand before her very eyes and blew away in the light breeze. Then Bisamah remembered something else. "Of course its only here during the day. At night, Perilin the Night Forest grows." Grograman had also told her. This meant that Goab was once again reclaiming the land.

As Bisamah ran, the Night Forest came crashing down around her. She had to use her arms as a make-shift shield to protect her face from the sand that seemingly fell from the sky. She didn't dare look up though, for an eye full of sand would surely hinder her journey back to Grograman's Tomb. But Bisamah didn't need to look up, for deep inside her she already knew what was happening to the massive trees above her head. They were turning to sand and collapsing like sand castles in the tide. There was a connection between Goab and Perilin, and Grograman as well. Only she did not fully understand it yet. 

  
  


  
  


When Bisamah realized that her feet were no longer trampling small flowers and that her legs no longer banged into tropical bushes, she stopped running. She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up, with her hand still ready to deflect any falling sand. That's when she realized that there was not a single plant, nor any sort of life for that matter, within view. "Goab is back." she said to herself. "Grograman was right." 

Suddenly, Bisamah realized that she could not remember which direction she had just come from. Even as she stood there, the sand were shifting, arranging itself in neat, color-coordinated piles. All traces of footprints were gone. Bisamah was lost. 

Wishing she had eaten more of that sweet nectar, Bisamah began to trudge through the seemingly boundless desert. Again, time seemed not to exist and Bisamah could not remember how long she had been there. 

When Bisamah could go no further, she found a tall grass-green colored dune and sat in its shade. It was a tiny bit cooler there, and Bisamah was temporarily relieved. "I'm never going to find Grograman and save him." she said to herself. Bisamah sighed and lowered her head. A sparkle caught her eye. She had completely forgotten about the necklace around her neck. AURYN was made of some highly polished metal that reflected the green sand beautifully. When she angled the Gem a different way, it caught the reflection of a navy blue dune to Bisamah's left. For the moment, Bisamah forgot about her troubles and continued to play with AURYN.

Violet. Periwinkle. Lime-green. Coral. Copper. And black. The Gem shown all these colors when Bisamah held it in her hand and slowly angled it towards the surrounding dunes. This reminded Bisamah of something . . . "Grograman!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. She quickly rose to her feet, allowing AURYN to fall and whack her in the chest. "Ouch!"she yelped, clutching the point of impact. Bisamah slumped back to the ground and began to sob. It was hopeless. Completely hopeless. 

To her family and schoolmates, Bisamah seemed fearless. She never showed any emotion to indicate when she was scared or frightened. Even now, crying came very difficultly to her. But Bisamah had a certain habit when she was scared or nervous that no one knew of - she doodled. She had been scared stiff in meeting her grandfather for the first time, and that is why she doodled in the dust on his floor.

Bisamah extended her shaking finger and began to doodle in the green sand. She could think of nothing but Grograman and without even thinking of it, a lion emerged in her doodle. "Its . . . Grograman." she said to herself. She smiled fondly at the lion. "I'll be right back." she whispered.

Bisamah returned several minutes later with a handful of scarlet sand. She spread it onto the doodle of Grograman and blended it in around his mane. She took care in making the flames that surrounded his face and trailed behind him. Bisamah tapped her chin, another habit of hers, then set off again for another color. This time she returned with an armful of saffron-yellow which she carefully placed on Grograman's face. Then she dug into her pocket. She'd brought several shiny black marbles with her, just in case she needed them during her stay with her grandpa. Bisamah carefully placed the marbles on Grograman's face, then half buried them in the yellow sand. "It still needs more colors . . " Bisamah said to herself. She looked to her left where the navy blue dune was. She went and got a large armful and spread it across Grograman's back, taking care not to smudge the beautiful mane. 

Several sand trips later (for there was no time in Goab,) Grograman was complete. He was the color of every dune within walking distance. Every detail, down to his toe nails and whiskers, Bisamah had replicated with the sand, and at full scale too. She stood over her work, admiring it immensely. Then she curled up next to it and went to sleep. 

  
  


"Master!" said a deep voice, "Master, wake up!" Bisamah, just half awake, sat up and saw that her doodle of Grograman had come alive! She rubbed her eyes, then looked down at the ground. The doodle was still there. This was the real Grograman that was standing before her! "Grograman!" she said, now entirely awake, "You're alive!"

"I'm sorry, master. I meant to explain, but then you passed out." he said, with his mighty head lowered. "I die with every night, as Goab dies, and am reborn each morning when the desert returns."

Bisamah wiped a tear from her cheek. "I thought I'd never see you again. That's why I made this . . . so I'd never forget how you looked."

"It's very good, master. Do you think you could teach me how to make one?"

"I suppose I could. What do you want to make?"

The lion paused to think. He stroked his beard and squinted his glassy eyes. Then he spoke: "Perilin!" he roared, "What does it look like, master? I have never seen it before, as my dying is what creates it."

"Well . . ." Bisamah searched for the word to sum up Perilin, but there wasn't one. "Perilin is like a rainforest - one thousand fold! Everywhere you look there is plant life. The floor is covered with a thick layer of moss that shines like a neon sign. Growing here and there out of the moss are small shrubs and bushes covered with huge tropical flowers. Some of these flowers are like great vases filled with the sweetest nectar anywhere. There are also trees in Perilin - huge trees that seem to scrape the very sky. Just the trunks of these are so wide that walking around one causes you to become short of breath. And then there are the vines that hang down from the branches of these trees. But these are not like the ugly vines you see clinging to the walls of old buildings. No - these vines are like inverted flowers hanging with there roots imbedded in a bow. Light pours out of the upside-down flowers in such a way that they resemble ceiling lamps! Can you picture Perilin, Grograman?" 

The lion shuffled his front paws and gulped. It was then that Bisamah realized that Grograman had not even the slightest idea of what a flower looked like! He had said it himself, Bastian and Bisamah were the only other living creatures he'd ever met - plants included! "Grograman . . ." said Bisamah, "I'll show you what Perilin looks like."

The lion chuckled and nodded. "Thank-you, master." Bisamah nodded back, then walked towards the jet-black dune. "This," she said, "will be the sky."

Grograman the Many-Colored Death watched, wide-eyed, as Perilin materialized before his eyes for the first time ever. Bisamah, again, made long trips to other dunes and brought back different colored sands. This time, however, Grograman helped her by carrying some sand of his own. 

No one knew how long it took for Bisamah to transform that jet-black dune of Goab, the Desert of Colors into a stretch of Perilin the Night Forest, but she did it. She used an olive-green dune for the moss, and a grass-green dune for the bushes. A combination of fuchsia and saffron-yellow became the flowers, with scarlet sand being the sweet nectar. Bisamah carefully blended a halo of sand around every single flower bud and leaf to create the glow that the real plants of Perilin gave off.

When Bisamah was done, she shook the excess sand from her hands and looked towards Grograman. The great lion had a tear in his eye. "So this is what I create every night." he said to himself. It was a not a tear of sadness, but of pride. And it was easy to see why Grograman was proud! Bisamah had covered the entire black dune, quite a large area, with sand flowers, shrubs, and trees. And on the edge of Sand Perilin, Sand Grograman watched over his Night Forest, like the real Grograman could not.

"Master," said Grograman, "I now know what to do with my life. Bastian told me what I do in death - but not life. I wander Fantasia with my desert, but without a purpose or goal. I search for intruders in Goab, when I know there are none, for all living creatures die upon arrival - unless they posses AURYN of course. But now I have a purpose - to create the most beautiful sand murals in Fantasia!"

"But Grograman, no one will ever see them!" shouted Bisamah.

"That matters little." he responded. "It is my purpose and I thank you for creating it, master."

"You're welcome, Grograman." said Bisamah, still puzzled.

"Now I must perfect my art!" roared Grograman as he plopped down on a coral-colored dune nearby. "Now, what to make . . ."

Bisamah had an idea. She dove deep into her pockets and came out with half a dozen travel brochures for exotic places such as the Bahamas, Australia, the Swiss Alps, and even the Sahara Desert! She had picked them up at a rest area while on her trip to Bastian's house, which seemed very long ago to her. "Maybe this will inspire you . . ." Bisamah said, handing the brochures to Grograman.

"Wow!" he said with a wild look in his eyes. 

"These are pictures of places in my world." Bisamah told the lion. "This one is the Swiss Alps, they're mountains, and that's the Carribean, its very hot there . . . " said Bisamah, naming every one of the half a dozen travel destinations contained in the wrinkled pamphlets.

"What's this one?" asked Grograman, in awe. It was the brochure for the Sahara Desert, and except for the monochromatic-sand, it highly resembled Goab. "Oh my! What is that, master?" asked Grograman again, pointing to a tan-colored animal in the photo.

"That's a camel!" chuckled Bisamah. "They are animals which live in our deserts. We even ride them to get around!"

"It would be nice to have some of those in Goab! I'd like some company to share my sand murals with." said the lion, hanging his mighty head low.

"I wish you had camels here too . . . I'd love to see them being ridden in Goab!" added Bisamah, chuckling to herself.

Grograman sighed and walked toward a tan sand dune to his left. He picked up an enormous handful and brought it to a sky-blue dune not too far away. "I am going to make a camel" he announced, and he began immediately.By the time Grograman had finished the camel, the sun hung low on the horizon. The Many-Colored Death raised his head and sniffed the air. "I must be getting back." he said. He looked affectionately at his mural, and sighed. "Hop on, master." Grograman said to Bisamah. She took one last look at the murals she and Grograman had created that day, then got on his back and rode off. "I wish they'd stay forever." she whispered as the murals disappeared over the horizon.

  
  


  
  


Part II: Blossoming

  
  


  
  


Several minutes later, the two arrived back at Grograman's tom. Bisamah immediately left the room where Grograman was to become a stone statue, for she knew she would not be able to look at him once he was dead. Suddenly, she heard an ear-splitting sound, telling her that Grograman was now gone. Bisamah was alone in the enormous tomb, but she did not feel like exploring it again. Instead, she wanted to see more of Perilin. 

Bisamah bent back the small shrubs and saplings that now crowded the entrance to Grograman's tomb, and stepped into the Night Forest. It did not look exactly the same as it had before though. All the plants still glowed, but they were not the same wide spectrum of colors. Most of the plants and flowers around Bisamah were a dull tan color. "Strange." she said to herself. 

As Bisamah walked through Perilin, she suddenly noticed a change in the colors of the plants. Now they were all black! But just ten feet in front of her, they turned tan again. This was most odd and Bisamah demanded a reason! She looked to her right, and there stood an enormous black tree. This tree was covered with large thorns that stuck out of its bark every few inches. Climbing the tree proved very easy, even for Bisamah who was not the athletic type. 

From the top of the tree, Bisamah could see most of Perilin, and what she saw shocked her. Perilin was still a palette of thousands of different colors, but here and there were now splotches of solid colored trees and flowers. At first glance, one would think they were merely random shapes, and nothing more. But as one looked closer, she would realize that these splotches were in fact giant pictographs, or murals if you will. In the far distance Bisamah could see giant flowers and trees. Next to this stood a massive lion. And now Bisamah realized that she was standing in the middle of the eye of a massive camel! "They did stay forever!" she shouted. "My wish came true!" Never had a girl been happier.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bisamah thought she saw something move among the tan trees. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes, but she could see nothing moving. "The breeze." she said. But then she saw it again. This time, it was beyond the tan expanse of Perilin, in a section of randomly colored plants. Bisamah could clearly see a group of tan blotches moving slowly through the trees, as if lumbering. But what they were, remained a mystery to Bisamah. And if there was one thing Bisamah disliked, it was mysteries. 

Climbing down the massive tree proved to be more difficult than Bisamah had thought. On the way down, her expensive jeans were ripped to shreds. Before her arrival in Goab, Bisamah would have been furious. Perhaps she would even have rushed home to demand her mother buy her a new pair. This however, was not an option, and Bisamah could have cared less what state her cloths were in. 

"Hullo, there!" called a voice. For a moment, Bisamah thought it was Grograman. But no - this voice was much higher pitched and had a strange foreign accent in it that Bisamah could not quite place. 

"Would you like to view the murals?" asked another voice. Bisamah jumped from the tree, and landed with a heavy thud. She looked around in amazement, for the giant black tree was now surround by a herd of camels! 

"The murals . . . ?" questioned Bisamah, who was a bit confused to say the least.

"Yes." replied the camel that had first greeted Bisamah. "This is the Perilin Art Gallery, where the works of master sand sculptor, Lord Grograman, are displayed. We are the Egth, representatives of Grograman if you will. As his dying is what preserves his art forever in the living flowers and trees of Perilin, he cannot himself view his own art - only create it. We give guided tours of Perilin for him and ensure that visitors are out of Perilin before Goab, the desert, reclaims the land. Would you like to see Grograman's art?"

"Oh, yes!" replied a very excited young girl. 

  
  


  
  


Just moments later, Bisamah was sitting between the two humps of her camel guide as they begin the tour of Perilin. The rest of the herd followed behind, and looking back at them, Bisamah now realized that quite a few of the other camels also had occupants seated between their humps. There seemed to be a camel for every being in fact. Some of the camels, or Egth, had humps that were spaced far apart, allowing for a large rider. Others had a series of a dozen or so small humps that allowed an entire family of pixies to ride together! 

Bisamah noticed that her Egth was beginning to gain speed at a rapid rate. She looked back and noticed that all of the camels seemed to be flying through Perilin, ducking trees like no camel on Earth would have dared. It almost seemed as if their huge feet were off the ground. Bisamah looked again. They were off the ground!

"We're flying!" screamed Bisamah, who had never even been in an airplane before.

"Of course we're flying!" her camel called back. "The Perilin Art Gallery can only be viewed from above!"

When Bisamah dared to open her eyes again, she was greeted with a sight that was even more beautiful than Perilin itself, yet was made from Perilin. For as far as Bisamah's eyes could see, huge murals covered the tops of the trees. Directly below her was the camel mural Grograman had made just that night. But beyond this Bisamah could see many more murals which were unfamiliar. Some were of unicorns, giant flowers, graceful ballet dancers, and even a great shining sword. This was all very odd. Grograman had just learned how to make murals, and there was no way he could have done this all without Bisamah knowing it! She was about to ask her tour guide how long ago the murals had been made, when he spoke first.

"Directly below us you will see Grograman's latest and greatest work. Titled 'Ode to the Egth,' it recognizes the hard-working race of desert camels who serve the great artist himself." finished the camel, with a detectable amount of pride in his voice.

"But-" Bisamah attempted to speak.

"Please, hold all questions 'til the end of the tour." interrupted the Egth. "Now, as we pass 'Ode to the Egth,' you will be able to view 'The Swan-Winged Stallion' to your left. This is one of Grograman's older works, done during his Equine Phase. And now, to your right you will now be able to see 'Tulip,' another older work done during the artist's Botany Movement . . ."

The Egth had pointed out hundreds of other murals before the tour was finally over. "Now, you may ask your question."

"My question . . . ?" responded Bisamah, who was still engrossed in the stunning murals. "Oh! Oh, yes . . . um, my question . . . how long has Grograman been making these murals with sand? "

"Since Bastian left him." responded the camel. "He became immensely bored and invented this to pass the time, and also to remember Bastian by. Grograman made murals out of all the things Bastian spoke of. Soon afterwards, we Egth wandered into Goab. And since we did not die like all other Fantasians, Grograman allowed us to live with him in his tomb. When we discovered the murals, we told Lord Grograman about them and he decided that he wanted us to set up this Art Gallery for him. Since then, he has become Fantasia's most famous artist! Creatures come from far and wide just to see it!"

Bisamah did not know what to say exactly. She knew that the Egth and the Perilin Art Gallery had not even existed the night before, yet now it appeared as if they had been created a very long time ago! Bisamah could not explain it, yet she knew it was true. She had wished for something so badly, that it had happened. But why?

"Thank-you for joining us on today's tour of the Perilin Art Gallery." said the camel, coming to a smooth landing in a small clearing. "We will now precede to exit Perilin." The Egth began to run again, and huge prongs of neon bushes slapped Bisamah across her face. Bisamah closed her eyes and shielded her face with her arms.

  
  


  
  


"Ma'am! We're out of Perilin - you can open your eyes now." said the camel in a sweet voice." For the first time, the Egth turned its head around, and Bisamah could get a good view of its face. It looked like a normal tan-colored camel, except that its eyelashes were much longer and had a purple-tinge to them. The animal had very large nostrils also, and it closed them and opened them up again as it breathed. The Egth appeared to be specifically designed for life in Goab.

"Thank-you for the tour." said Bisamah, hopping off the camel's back. "I enjoyed it immensely." When she turned around and began to walk back towards the jungle once again, the Egth came bounding towards her and blocked her path with his spindly legs.

"No one is permitted in Perilin! Not now!" shouted the camel. "The sun is rising and soon Goab will be here! No one can walk into and out of Goab alive!"

Bisamah didn't know what to do. She had to get back to Grograman, but she did not think the Egth would believe her. Perhaps Grograman would not even remember her? Then Bisamah remembered AURYN, the medallion she wore around her neck. Hadn't Grograman told her that it was what allowed her to live in Goab? 

"But I have AURYN!" proclaimed the girl. The Egth gasped and stepped back. Bisamah reached for AURYN, her only ticket back to Grograman, but it was not there! "I . . . it was there before!" she whimpered.

"Silly girl . . ." the camel said, shaking his head in disappointment. Suddenly he looked up with a stern look upon his face. "What is that under your jacket? Are you hiding something from me?" he questioned, motioning to Bisamah with one of his flat feet.

"What . . .?" she said, unbuttoning her jacket, which she still had on from the car trip to Bastian's house so long ago. As the buttons came undone and the jacket dropped away from Bisamah's body, a golden light filled the space between her and the Egth.

"What in the . . . it couldn't be, could it?" he sputtered, his long lips shaking with either fear or amazement, (for it was difficult to tell.)

"AURYN!" shouted Bisamah, holding the silvery amulet high above her head in the light of the rising sun. The Egth dropped with a thud to his large padded knees. "The Gem . . ." he said to himself. "Then the prophecy has been fulfilled!" he shouted, still bowing to Bisamah.

"Get up you old goat!" said Bisamah. "What prophecy? What are you talking about?"

"The prophecy that another being will one day journey to Goab in the name of Bastian Balthazar Bux, the Lord of Perilin!" the Egth said, now standing up, but still not looking directly at the Gem, perhaps out of admiration, (or fear,) of its shear power.

"Grampa . . ." Bisamah whispered to herself. "Bastian Balthazar Bux is my grandfather." she said, shaking with a combination of excitement and nervousness.

"Then come with me . . ." spoke the Egth. Bisamah, without hesitation, once again positioned herself between the great camel's humps and slowly watched as the Great Desert of Goab came into view.

  
  


  
  


The Egth once again took off and Bisamah soared through the sky, free as any bird she had seen in her backyard so long ago. She was not interested in the sand murals that lay below her though, as beautiful as they were, for she had but one thought on her mind: Grograman. 

"Has Grograman ever mentioned me?" asked Bisamah when she got her bearings again. The Egth did not hear her at first though. "Sir, excuse me . . ." Then he turned his slender neck around and looked at the girl. "Yes?" he asked. Bisamah took a deep breath. "Has Grograman ever mentioned me? Has he said anything about my visit to him?" The camel thought for a moment. "No . . . Lord Grograman never spoke of any human but Bastian. And as I already said, your visit was a prophecy. You did just arrive here after all . . . or am I mistaken?"

Bisamah moved her mouth to speak, but the Egth beat her to it. "We're here!" he cooed, coming to a graceful landing in front of the entrance to the tomb. There was something different about its facade this time. Bisamah couldn't quite place it though, for her mind was still too occupied with her friend, the Many-Colored Death. What if he didn't know her anymore? She didn't want to have to re-establish her only friendship in all of Fantasia . . . and Earth for that matter! What if it didn't turn out as good the second time? Or ever worse, what if Grograman had changed? Bisamah's mind was so cluttered that she wasn't even paying attention - she was just following the Egth as he lead her into the tomb.

"I will inform Lord Grograman of your presence. Please wait right here." said the Egth, motioning Bisamah to sit in a pile of cushions in the corner of the room. Bisamah did so without saying a word, for she was more scared then she had ever been before. So many things raced through her mind. She still did not entirely understand her grandfather's connection with this place and its strange creatures, nor did she understand how exactly she had altered it. Bisamah closed her eyes and thought. She thought harder than she ever had before. "What happened . . . what did I do?" Then it all rushed back like a sudden wave.

"I wish you had camels here too . . . I wish they'd stay forever . . ." echoed through her mind. That was it! Without even knowing it, Bisamah had created a picture in her head of how she'd like to change Goab, and it had really happened! "I wished for camels, and I got them! Then I wished for Grograman's sand murals to stay, and they did! But since the sands of Goab are really seeds, they turned into flower murals!" she exclaimed.

"My savior!" roared a voice from across the immense room. The words echoed off the ceiling and Bisamah opened her eyes. "Gr . . . Grograman . . ." she stuttered. He was as black as the black floor he stood upon, but it was without a doubt him. Bisamah leapt up from the cushions and ran towards the lion. They hugged long and hard, and when they finally let the embrace go, Bisamah looked up into the Many-Colored Death's face and spoke. "Grograman, so much has happened and I fear I may have destroyed something."

"You have done nothing wrong, master. Although I do not remember what has happened, I do know of the prophecy."

"What is this prophecy I hear so much of?"

Grograman smiled and began:"After Bastian left, a great beast came into Goab. He was tan colored and had long spindly legs and massive flat feet. His eye lashes were long and his nostrils could close and open as he wished. He could fly and so he soared over Goab until he spotted my tomb-home and waited outside until I emerged that day. The beast introduced himself as Benjsama, Prince of the Egth. He told me that he brought a prophecy with him that spoke of a girl bearing AURYN who would come in the name of Bastian and teach me to enjoy my life, the life that he had created and had always felt guilty about. Then he recited this rhyme, explaining that it had been handed down through the Royal Family of the Egth, until it reached him.

  
  


' What once was begun shall be finished one day

What he left undone shall be completed this way

When he sends the one who will end what was begun

The End will be The Beginning, and all will be done'

  
  


And now that you have arrived, the prophecy has been fulfilled!"

Bisamah tried to look up at Grograman, but she could not because her eyes were too filled with tears and she did not want him to see her in such a state.

"Master . . ." he said, "why do you look so sad?"

"I just don't understand it!" she said, looking at the ground, "When I arrived there were no camels, and you still had no purpose! I . . . I can't be the one then . . ."

"But you are." said the lion. "Just I told Bastian when he did not believe that he had created me and my desert, 'A story can be new and yet tell about olden times. The past comes into existence with a story.' My purpose was always here, as were the Egth, but it took your presence, and your wishes, for them to show. And so now, I have a story of my own! You have given me my purpose in life, Master Bisamah. This is the beginning."

There were tears streaming down Bisamah's face, but she could not have cared less how she looked. The girl fell into the awaiting arms of the lion and they once again embraced.

  
  


"Bisamah . . ." chimed a voice.

". . . Grograman?" Bisamah asked, lifting her head up. She looked around only to discover that she was surrounded by large, plush pillows. Where was Grograman? She could remember nothing after she had begun to hug him.

"Grograman is dead." said the voice. "It is I, Benjsama, Prince of the Egth. You fell asleep in Grograman's arms and he requested that you be moved here, for it was his time to leave us. He also requested that I take you on a special tour of Perilin tonight. Shall we go?" Bisamah stood up, rubbed the sleep from her eyes and nodded. She walked to the front of the crypt with Benjsama and they departed.

By now, Bisamah had gotten used to the sensation of flying on the back of an Egth, and so it was easier for her to enjoy the murals. This time, they flew around to the back of the crypt and journeyed on in that direction. Bisamah looked behind her as the tomb grew smaller and eventually disappeared.

"Bisamah." asked Benjsama. "We are beginning to come to one of Lord Grograman's earliest murals. Grograman said that this in particular would be of special interest to you." 

Bisamah did not answer the Prince, although she had heard what he said, for she was completely engrossed in what lay sprawled beneath her. It was not a very remarkable mural, certainly not one of Grograman's best, but Bisamah had a feeling that it was special. Because even the smallest of the murals were gigantic, flying over one took several minutes. This was fine by Bisamah, who wanted to take this mural in piece by piece, beginning with the feet.

He wore red boots that curved up at the toes. The boots were very high and it took a long time to fly over them. Next to the left boot was a stick of silver, carved elaborately. Bisamah puzzled over this for a minute, then they passed over it. His tunic, embroidered with silver thread that matched the stick, hung down to his knees, just above the tops of his boots. By now Bisamah could tell that he was wearing cloths that were defiantly Oriental. She could also see the top of the silver stick - it was a mantle for his sword! "What a brave man he must be!" she whispered to herself. Bisamah could now see his face, it was tall and slender and she was also surprised to see that he was just a child, perhaps a year or two younger than she presently was. His slim, muscular body had fooled her. As they passed over the boy's head, Bisamah could not get over how handsome he was, and also that he was strangely familiar. It was not the shape of his face nor the build of his body, but his eyes that caught the girl's attention. They were so life-like, she felt that they would wink at her at any moment. She wanted to look into these eyes longer, but they were already passing over them. Now Bisamah and the Prince Egth were over a great round ball of blue. It was turban! Bisamah smiled at the headpiece.

Benjsama turned around to see if there was anything wrong with the quiet girl. He was surprised to see her looking down, smiling at Grograman's mural. "I guess Lord Grograman was right, this one is of interest to you! But if I may ask, what makes you stare at is so?"

"Bisamah shook her head. "I don't know . . . he looks so familiar to me, but I don't know where I've met him before."

"Grograman specifically told me not to give you any information about this piece. He wants you to guess what it is of I suppose. I think I can still help out you a little though because I'm sure Lord Grograman wouldn't mind if I just gave you the title of the piece . . . what harm could it do after all?!" 

Bisamah stared at Benjsama, waiting for him to reveal the title."It's 'B.B.B." he finally said after a long pause.

"'B.B.B.?'"

"Yes, that's it." Bisamah thought over the meaning of the title in her head for a moment, but nothing happened. Just then, they passed over three enormous red letters.

B

B

B

  
  


Something went click in Bisamah's mind. She had always been a very visual person, so perhaps seeing the initials there in the flowers and trees was what did it, because at that exact moment, she remembered something her father had said to her as they drove into her grandfather's driveway so long ago . . . her and her grandfather had the same initials! B.B.B.! This was a portrait of Bastian as a boy! That's why she had recognized his eyes! 

Bisamah gasped so loudly that the Prince Egth turned around to see what was the matter. As soon as she realized that the camel was turning around to check on her, she quickly turned her gasp into a sort of yawn, or perhaps she meant it to be a cough. But either way, it fooled Benjsama."You looked tired, Bisamah. I think that perhaps I should have waited a little longer before awakening you. Would you like to return to the crypt?" he asked. Bisamah, still in a daze, nodded. "I'll make a wide turn up ahead so that you can view some of the other murals before heading back. Is that alright?" Again, all Bisamah could do was nod.

Bisamah tried to piece together the bits of information she had collected about the world she was in, her grandfather's connection to this world, and now, her own connection. She felt as if her mind was a collection of jig-saw puzzle pieces that had been strewn across the floor. All the pieces were there, now she just needed to fit them together properly. The trouble was that she truly was exhausted, and this made it feel as if she was trying to piece her puzzle together on a boat! As soon as she had discovered two pieces that fit together, a wave would come and rock the boat, causing the pieces to slide away from each other once again. 

"Well, what do you think of these?" said a voice. Bisamah jumped, for the Egth had startled her. "What?" she said wearily, "Oh." She realized that he had been referring to several murals they were now passing over. One was of robin in a bird's nest, and the other was an orange and yellow kitten. "They're lovely." Bisamah said, although she really couldn't have cared less abut a bird or a cat at the moment. "Well," said Benjsama, "We're almost back now!"

Grograman's black tomb was just coming into view over the horizon, while the sun was disappearing beneath it. On their return journey, the two witnessed the arrival of Goab from the air. It was the most stunning thing Bisamah had ever seen, yet she couldn't fully appreciate it, for her head was still rocking from the waves.

  
  


Benjsama began to lose altitude in preparation for a smooth landing in front of the entrance to the tomb. As they neared the front of it, Bisamah could see a figure standing by the door. 

"Lord Grograman!" yelled Benjsama, as he landed a few yards in front of the lion 

"Hello! I was expecting you to come back soon, that's why I decided to wait out here. How was it, Bisamah? Did you see anything interesting?" 

Bisamah hopped off of Benjsama's back and landed in the sand with a thud. "Yes," she answered after a pause, "I did."

The lion winked, and instantly Bisamah was overcome with a strange sensation. She could feel something that she had never experienced before: gratefulness. Although what she was grateful for, still alluded her.

"Would you like to come in and discuss it?" asked Grograman. Bisamah nodded and followed the Many-Colored Death into his tomb. Benjsama remained outside.

When the two were inside, Grograman gestured for Bisamah to sit on the pillows she had slept on earlier. He lay down on a silken rug next to the pile of pillows. There was a moment of silence before Bisamah realized that the lion was waiting for her to begin.

"I . . . I saw Bastian." she began.

"And that is why I sent you. I hoped it would help you to understand."

"But it didn't!" 

"Yes. It did. You just don't know it yet because things are out of order in your head!"

"Perhaps . . . but how would you know that?!" Again, Grograman winked and Bisamah was overcome with that strange sensation. She tried to shake it off, but she couldn't.

"I knew, and that is all that matters." Grograman said through a cryptic smile. "But now it is time to get things straightened out for you at last. So let us begin at the most logical place: the beginning." Bisamah smiled at this, but it was more of a fake smile, for she was quite nervous. She still felt as if she had done something wrong.

"But what's the beginning?" Bisamah said when she could no longer even hold a pseudo-smile.

"The beginning is what you wish it to be. You wished for the beginning to be Bastian's departure from Goab and Perilin, for it was the only time that my story, your story, could begin. The beginning was always there, just like an empty book left on a dusty shelf for eons by someone who could not finish it at the time. You only needed to fill it up with tales from the past, from when the book was new . . ." 

Slowly, one by one, the pieces began to fall into place. Grograman explained to Bisamah everything that had previously alluded her: why Bastian had come to Goab and Perilin, how she had altered things, and why her arrival had been a prophecy. When the Many-Colored Death had finished, Bisamah had a complete picture in her mind.

"Grograman," she said, "Why did I really come here?" The picture in Bisamah's mind was so clear now, that she could clearly see a portion left untouched by Grograman in his explanation.

"Then . . . you must know!" he roared, jumping up on his hind legs, the flames of his mane singing the ceiling of the crypt far above Bisamah's head.

"I'm . . . I'm grateful. I've been feeling grateful since I saw you after returning with Benjsama. And now that I have everything else straightened out, I can see why!"

Grograman looked intently at the girl, awaiting the words he knew she would soon say.

"I have a purpose! It's to give others purposes in life as well! Everyone needs a purpose, or else they have no story, and therefore no life at all. I realize now that I have never really lived. Just as you die each night, I have been dead all along."

Grograman beamed and lunged for Bisamah. He gave her a strong yet gentle hug. It lasted only a few seconds though, for soon their gazes met, and each could see that the other was crying. The lion took a few steps back and watched Bisamah with a look not unlike the look of a proud father.

She wanted to hug him again though. Bisamah tried to stand up to run to Grograman, but she tripped on the pile of pillows she had been sitting on. Thud. She landed face-down in them. Bisamah could hear a voice, but it was muffled by the pillows pushed up against her ears.

"You've done it, Master . . ." one said.

". . . you've done it!" it repeated, (or was it another voice?)

"Grograman!" Bisamah yelled when she finally dug herself out of the pillows.

"Grograman?! Hah! What a load of bologna! That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! Its me . . . Grampa!"

Bisamah shot straight up. She looked around. No longer was she in the large extravagant room of the crypt. She now found herself sitting on a couch amidst a few mildewy pillows in a room that was much smaller and very dimly lit. Also, there was a strange sparkly dust coating everything around her. Bisamah slowly stood up off the couch and looked down. Directly between her feet was a doodle in that dust . . . a doodle of a lion. She knew where she was.

"Hrmph!" Bastian said, clearing his throat. Bisamah looked up. She was still very much confused after what had happened, and it took a little bit longer than usual for things to register.

Bisamah studied the old man, as she hadn't really done when they first met. She recognized his eyes; they were the same ones, she knew it for sure now! She also noticed that he had an open book upon his lap. Bastian appeared to be almost finished with it, for there couldn't have been more than a few pages left. Then Bisamah returned to his eyes, and she noticed that they were staring at her impatiently!

"Oh, Grampa! Thank-you!" Bisamah ran to give her grandfather a hug, the great big one she had intended for Grograman of course. As she embraced him, Bastian managed to wriggle one of his arms free and save the book from Bisamah's hug! Then, with the greatest care, he placed the book on a dusty shelf next to his chair. There were many other similar-looking books on the shelf already as well. All had shiny ribbons in them placed near the end. There was another shelf immediately below this one and it contained books with their ribbons placed in the middle of the book some place. A third shelf was below this one and it contained books with ribbons near the beginning, close to the cover.

When this task was done, Bastian used his free arm to give his granddaughter a pat on the back. She immediately loosened her grip, took a step back, and smiled.

"I'm grateful," she said, "grateful that I came and that you gave me my purpose." 

"My, my! You sound like a different person entirely today!"

"Yes, but not a happy one . . ."

"Oh?"

"No, not now. Not when I'm not helping someone else. I need to help someone find their story; their purpose, for it is my purpose!"

"That can be arranged . . ." Bastian said, his voice trailing off. He swivelled around in his chair and motioned for Bisamah to come look at the third bookshelf behind him. "These," Bastian said, "are unfinished stories."

"Oh . . ." the girl said, reaching out her hand to touch all the spines. "What about these other shelves?"

"Forget about them."

But she couldn't.

"The Further Story of Grograman . . ? Bisamah read off one of the spines of a book on the first shelf.

"Oh, don't worry about that story, my dear." Bastian said with a wink.

"It has a happy ending then, huh?"

"Oh, well it's happy alright, but it has no ending, for it is only the beginning of the story."

"And what story is that?

Bastian rased his shaky index finger and pointed at Bisamah. "The story of you." he said.

Bisamah gulped. "I should have known." she said with chuckle. "I'd like to try to add to that story now, if its alright with you."

"Be my guest."

Bisamah closed her eyes and ran her finger along the spines of all the books on the third shelf. "Tell me when." she said to her grandfather.

Bisamah waited, but she heard nothing but a strange thud off in the distance. "Grampa?" she said when she begun to worry. No answer. Bisamah opened her eyes. "Grampa?"

"What?" he replied in a bitter tone from across the room.

"Where are you?"

"I'm by the front door . . . greeting your parents."

"My parents?! What are they doing back so soon?!"

"What are you talking about, dear?" said Bisamah's mother as she stepped inside.

"Silly girl," said Bastian, "she really has no sense of time! To bed at one, awake by noon! Tsk. Tsk."

Bisamah's parents looked at their daughter with shocked expressions. Bisamah did not know how to react to Bastian's lies. Lies? Now why would he lie?!

"Well," Bastian continued, "that was only for the first few days. I whipped her into shape of course! Now she's in bed at 9:30 and wakes up with me - at the crack of dawn!" 

Bisamah let out a sigh of relief, for she could now see what her grandfather was up to. But had she really been gone for a whole month? "I guess there really was no time in Goab or Perilin . . ." she whispered to herself.

"Sounds like you really did some good! I'm sorry that we can't visit much longer though, but I have a very important errand to do and we need to get home before the store closes." said Bisamah's mother.

"Quite alright. Bisamah, why don't you show your parents around the house a bit while I pack up your things." said Bastian.

"Oh, we can pack her things up! You don-"

"No, no, no. I don't want you to have to lift a finger after that long, hard, tiring drive. Now, off you go! Good!"

"Okay, you win! Now where's the room you stayed in, sweetie?" Bisamah's mother asked her daughter.

"Um . . . my room . . ?" Just then, Bisamah noticed that Bastian, behind her parents' backs, was pointing down a hallway to his right.

"My room is right down this way!" Bisamah finished as she lead her parents down the hall. She wasn't sure why Bastian was doing this to her, but she knew that he must have had some crazy reason. And she couldn't wait to get back from the little tour and find out what it was!

  
  


  
  


"Welcome back!" announced Bastian. "Did you enjoy the tour?"

"Oh, yes, very much, Dad." said Bisamah's father. "We really must be going though."

"We can't thank you enough! We think you really did do something to Bisamah here!" said her mother.

Bisamah looked up into her parents faces and smiled. They smiled back of course.

"We don't know what you did, but we're eternally grateful!" her mother continued.

"Oh, it was nothing. Truthfully, she did it on her own."

"Whatever you say."

Bisamah's father looked at his watch and cleared his throat.

"Sorry we have to rush like this . . ." he said.

"Oh, quite alright. That's Bisamah's suitcase on the couch there. You'll be needing it I suppose."

"Of course!" Bisamah's father said as he reached down to pick it up, but he couldn't lift it!

"Oh! Honey, let me help you with that!" Bisamah's mother said, rushing over to help her husband. Together, they just barely managed to drag the suitcase along the floor, so of course it was covered with a good coating of sparkly dust before they reached the front door!

"I don't remember it being this heavy!" gasped her father, wiping sweat beads from his brow.

"Yeah, did you put any thing in it, Dad?"

"Oh, just a few old books I had lying around. Bisamah has really developed a love for reading since she has gotten here."

"Oh, yes, I just love to read now! Grampa is letting me borrow some of his books!" Bisamah said.

"Bisamah reading? Wow!" said her father.

"I'm glad you approve. But Bisamah, the books are yours to keep! I never lend anything out you know."

"Thanks, Grampa!" she cooed with a wink.

"Well, we best be off." her mother chimed in. "I hope you can make it to Thanksgiving!" 

The old man chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't miss it for this world . . . or Fantasia for that matter!"

". . . Fantasia?" Bisamah's father questioned with a crooked look.

"Oh, never mind the ramblings of an old crow like me - now be off!"

The three waved good-bye together as they walked down the path towards their car, all of them dragging the suitcase behind. It was the first time any of them could remember doing something together - as a family should.

"Just throw the suitcase in the back, dear - we're going to be late!" cried Bisamah's mother as she rushed to get in the car and put her seatbelt on.

"Throw?!"

"Oh, that's right! Let me help you."

"Me too!" added Bisamah.

When it was in the back, all three got in the car. "What are we going to be late for?" asked Bisamah, as she buckled up.

"We have to get to the store before it closes!"

"Why?!"

"To pick up your new stereo! We had to order it and it's coming in today!"

"My stereo . . ?"

"Bisamah! What did your grandfather do to you?! Don't you remember? The stereo was the only reason you went!"

"Oh . . . oh, yeah. I guess I had a change-of-heart while I was away." she chuckled.

"That's great, but - oh, no! Now we can't even return it because it was on sale!" Bisamah's father stated, clenching his fist.

No one replied though, so he just pulled out of the driveway. Bisamah smiled as they passed the mail box with Bastian's initials on them. It made her happy because it reminded her of her first "success" - Grograman. This gave her another idea . . .

"Dad?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"Don't be mad about the stereo . . . I know what to do with it!"

"And what would that be?"

"Well, there's this boy in my school named Manny, and he just loves music! He sits behind me in music class and he's always asking the teacher if he can borrow her cassette player for just one night. A lot of kids tease him because his family is very poor and he can't even afford to have a radio! I think he'd like to have my stereo, and maybe some of my CD's too. Oh, he can have all of them if he wants! I know he'll do a lot more with them than I ever could"

Bisamah's dad stopped the car. Both Bisamah's parents looked at one another in disbelief, then at their daughter, sitting behind them, smiling to herself; thinking about all the good she could do for others.

"Honey," her mother began with a tear running down her cheek, "that's the most wonderful thing I have ever heard! 

They decided to pick up Manny's new stereo the next day, and go out for dinner that night. It the first time they'd done so for as long as any of them could remember.

  
  


  
  


"Oh, Bisamah . . ." Bastian whispered into the open book upon his lap, now turned to the very last page, "You've done it! You will find purposes for so many now that you have found your own in life."

Indeed, Bastian was correct. Bisamah would go on to help many others, both in Fantasia and in the Human World, find their own purposes; their own stories. But those, of course, shall be told at other times.

  
  


The Beginning...


End file.
